tagTransgender & CrossdressersThe Making of Meaghan Ch. 07

The Making of Meaghan Ch. 07


I don't remember coming home after the Officer Harris incident, but I do remember sleeping for days. The whole experience was deeply traumatic and not something I wanted to revisit in my mind. I drifted in and out of restless sleep, confused and traumatized. On the third morning, I heard a text ping on my phone next to my bed, except when I reached for it, it was an iPhone X instead of my old beat up android phone with the cracked screen.

"I'm sorry about what happened. Take the time you need to rest. You don't need to get dressed up or do anything this week. I'll bring home Thai food. Hope you like your new phone."

I fell back into bed and pulled the sheets over my head.

We had take out food all that week, or Dave did his best to cook. I'd sleep in each day until he was gone to work and then rouse myself late, have a coffee, and just sit and think. My mind was a mess of disgust, shame, guilt and confusion. My world was upside down and being shaken, the pieces of my psyche falling to the floor and flying off in all directions with a jarring clang and rattle, a sickening feeling in my heart that I was never going to find all the pieces and put myself back together again. I was questioning my very existence, why this was all happening to me, and what it all meant. I mostly had questions, and almost no answers.

The whole event at the warehouse was a shock that I didn't want to think about, except the way it ended. I had surrendered to Dave in some way, had allowed him to take me. The most confusing thing was that some part of me was Ok with it, even relieved. The rational side of me tried to resist, to tell myself that this was some kind of Stockholm syndrome, to hold onto being a guy, to fight, to find a new way to escape, but I was losing confidence that I could. Dave always seemed way too clever, always so confident and one step ahead of me, and seemed to know everyone in this damn little town. And the consequences of defying him were so drastic I couldn't imagine trying that again. There was a dark cruel side to him that deeply frightened me, and I wasn't ever going to provoke that again.

Another part of me was starting to voice itself, to tell me that it was all ok, I could do this, and it would be alright, to let go of what was, and just trust that the path forward would be a better one for me if I just stopped resisting. I certainly knew that whenever I didn't resist him, when I let him make me his girl, let him take me physically, and when I obeyed him and served him unequivocally, he was gentle and kind and generous, so much so, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same person as the one who abused me and allowed me to be treated that way.

About a week later, over take out Chinese food, Dave told me the news.

"Listen, I've been thinking. Maybe this is all too much for you. I've decided that you can go. I've paid off your VISA and put a couple of K in your account so you can get back on your feet. You can leave in the morning, no questions asked."

"You mean I can just go?" I asked, incredulous, my heart beating faster but also a sinking feeling in my gut.

"Yeah, no strings attached. I've got an early shift tomorrow, so I'm going to bed, but think about it, and make whatever decision you want."

After he left, I sat in silence for a while, not sure what to do, and feeling sick. Maybe this was just another trap. Maybe If I actually tried to leave, something terrible will happen, and this is just a test. But what if he is being honest, and I do leave. What then? Where would I go tomorrow? I've gotten used to being here, to having everything taken care of, to not working, or having to worry about money or rent or any of things most people have to think about. And I've lost a lot of my confidence in myself; I'm not sure I could just walk away and be OK now. I'd be so messed up trying to get back on my feet, on my own.

The next day, I got up around 10. Dave had gone to work. I would normally throw on a pair of sweats or jeans and a T-shirt for the day, not changing into Rebecca's clothes till late afternoon, to get ready for Dave coming home early evening. I thought about what Dave had said, and what I should do.

As a stood before the dresser, I hesitated. I looked at the pile of my normal clothes to one side, knowing that Rebecca's clothes were in the dresser and cupboard. After several minutes of standing there, I took a deep breath and I made my decision. I began tossing my own clothes in a box in the corner; my jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, sweats, jackets, ball caps, socks, underwear, everything, piled in a heap in the corner of the room. I methodically got rid of everything that was mine in that room, and put them out in the garage in green garbage bags.

I stood in front of the dresser again, naked except for the cage, with Rebecca's clothes behind those drawers, my hands on the handles hesitating, shaking a bit, my eyes closed as I took another deep breath. This is it, I thought, I'm doing this, just as he said I would. It seemed like a simple decision in the moment; extraordinary nonetheless.

I opened the drawer to Rebecca's lingerie. I looked through the many options of frilly panties and bras of different kinds, finally choosing a pair of red lace G-string panties and a matching bra. I picked out a pair of tight skinny jeans and a black silk blouse, draping the clothes over the bathroom sink as I went into the shower. Dave didn't want me to shave anymore. He said he hated the feel of stubble so I waxed my legs and arms again. The more I waxed regularly, the longer it took for my hair to grow back, and I've gotten used to the silky smooth feel of my legs and arms. Frankly, I like being smooth. I look better, more muscular and fit - and sexier. In fact, I hate having any body hair now, and diligently pull out any errand strands I see on my legs or arms.

That was two months ago. Since then, I have dressed every day, all day. Nothing fancy, just easy to wear clothes, things that Dave likes, like skinny jeans, tights, fitted skirts, with loose fitting but feminine tops. I don't have to wear the high heel pumps that he insisted on before, but he does like a bit of a heel, to lift and accentuate my ass. I know I shouldn't care about that, but I do now. There are lots of outfits and options to choose from in Rebecca's wardrobe. I am still very slim; obsessing over my weight seems to be the norm now. Rebecca's clothes look so much better on me when I am wafer thin, or at least that's what Dave says and I don't doubt he is right.

I've been getting better at putting on makeup. I still have a lot to learn, but have the basics figured out I guess. I suppose I don't have to put make on everyday, since I don't go out, but it has become part of my morning ritual, and I don't feel quite right unless I have some eye shadow, liner, mascara, and of course, some foundation and concealer on my beard area. There is a wide variety of lipsticks to choose from, and I have settled on a few that seem to complement my face. I don't know why I am starting to obsess over this stuff, but there is not much else to do all day, and the more effort I put in, the better I look. Dave certainly appreciates it. I've become hyper sensitive to Dave's moods and any little sign of approval or confirmation that I look good or please him, like a neurotic housewife. Fuck!

I spend a fair bit of time on the internet now, looking at women's clothes and makeup. Dave says I can buy anything I want with his VISA card, so I have started mail ordering some stuff. I got a pile of new lingerie from Victoria Secret, a beautiful burgundy pencil dress, and some open-toed brown leather chunky pumps that Dave really likes with skinny jeans. I am starting to appreciate how sexy the right pairs of shoes can look, and I will spend time looking at myself in the mirror checking out my ass in new shoes or a dress I find in Rebecca's collection. There are times when I have been on the internet for hours, or fussing over looks in my room, and I suddenly have a wave of nausea of what I have become, and I shut down the computer.

I do drink more during the day, I suppose to numb myself to things I don't want to think about and pretend that this is all Ok.

My hair has grown to about the bottom of my shoulder blades, with long waves. I use a flat iron to create simple waves, which looks cute and sexy. Dave has said he wants me to go to a salon and get some blonde highlights, but the thought of that just scares the shit out of me. I'm comfortable being a girl all day when I am on my own, or with Dave in our house, but I'm still scared of going out dressed this way or having to deal with people.

We have gone for some more rides on our motorbikes, which is great, and I comfortable with that now. It's easy to hide behind the mirrored lenses of a motorbike helmet, and the times we do stop to eat or gas up, I stick to Dave and let him do all the talking, staying in the background behind my ball cap and sunglasses, ignoring the guys staring at me.

Dave got me several more pieces of jewelry. Some funky wide bracelets and African and American tribal necklaces that look very nice. I have a collection of earrings, from the diamond studs he got me to an assortment of hoops or tear drop style. God, what have I become that all this matters to me.

It was my birthday a few weeks back. June 1. Dave texted me during the day and said he was picking up some Thai food from the Mandalay restaurant. I love Thai food, and that was super sweet of him, because we don't have any Thai food in our town, and he had to drive a round trip 50 miles to Brockton to get it.

I decided to really dress up for him that night. I tried out various outfits from Rebecca's collection, and decided on a beautiful light grey, slightly see-through cinch dress. The side cinch creates a lovely body hugging shape, and with the see through, my black lace bra and panties were visible underneath. I wore the diamond studs he got me, and the silver necklace. Black sheer thigh highs and 2 inch pumps finished the look. I spent a lot of time on my makeup and hair, the cascading curls framing my face beautifully. I had to admit, I looked hot. I'd fuck her, I thought, as I admired myself in the mirror, with a spritz of Chanel.

The cage was driving me crazy. I had it taped back, but it was really bugging me to try and get a nice silhouette in tight fitting clothes and look my best with this hardware between my legs. Mostly, it was making me really horny to not be able to jerk off, and of course, more and more of my fantasies were about Dave. I would try and fondle myself through the cage, imagining myself with some super sexy chic I'd seen around town, fucking the daylights out of her beautiful pussy, with my pants around my ankles, but after a minute or two, it was almost like some part of my mind would interrupt and say "c'mon dude, who are you kidding. The only way your getting off is with Dave's cock up your ass or in your mouth, so move along." Having an erection in the cage was so painful anyway, that I mostly ended up with a burning, pent up frustration in my whole pelvis, wanting to get off so bad but not able to, except that one time I had been with Dave.

I mixed up some strong margaritas and smiled when I heard him pull into the driveway.

"Hey babe. Wow, you look great."

"Thanks," I said self-consciously. "That was sweet of you to go all the way to Brockton to get Thai food," I said.

"It's your birthday, it's the least I could do."

"Have a drink."

"Nice. Just what I need."

As I handed him his drink, he reached around and gave my left butt cheek a little squeeze and held it there. I shivered.

"I'd forgotten about this dress," he said. "Give me a spin."

"Oh, come on," I said.

"Don't be shy," he said, starting to spin me with his left hand.

I did a quick spin, slowing down as my back was turned to him so he could get a good look at my ass.

"Yup, that is a thing of beauty."

I blushed.

"Hey, I got you a present," he said, as we made our way into the kitchen, drinks in hand.

He pulled out a small blue box, probably 3 inches square.

Oh no, I thought, the last time I got a gift in a box like this, I am still regretting it.

"Let me guess, you got me smaller cock cage cause you figure mine has shrunk to fit the extra, extra small now."

He chuckled. "Something like that," he said, handing me the box.

I took a stiff drink, and topped up our margaritas, the tequila starting to have the desired effect.

I opened the box, a beautiful three-strand silver necklace with two tiny silver rings either side of a diamond encrusted silver ring. It was beautiful, and obviously very expensive.

I held it up and sighed. "You really don't need to do this Dave. This is beautiful, but all this jewelry must be costing you a fortune."

"I enjoy it babe," he said quietly as he took the pendant from me. I turned so he could put it on me, holding my hair out of the way to expose my neck. I shivered again as he stood behind me, and I could feel my butt touch his jeans. I wanted to push into him. He tied the clasp, his large hands grazing across my skin. I could feel that in my panties.

"Well, thank you," I said, feeling strange. So many times these days, I just feel like I am in some parallel universe, living the life of someone else, like I am looking down on her in disbelief from just out of sight.

I turned and we both admired the beautiful pendant. Me, feeling self conscious as Dave took in the full view of me in front of him, clearly checking me out and imagining what might be in store that evening.

"Let's dig in," he said, opening the cartons of delicious Thai food, the flavors wafting into the kitchen. We had a couple more drinks, and laughed over some things happening at work.

"Oh, there is one more gift," he said, "it's in the same box."

"What? Really?"

Oh no, maybe this is where things go sideways again. I reached for the box and pulled the white cotton fluff that the pendant had been nestled in. It was a key. I pulled it out.

"What is this?"

"Well, I sold your little civic. It was time to move on from that piece of junk, so that's the key to your new car on the driveway."

"What? You're joking?"

"Naw, come check it out."

We went to the door and on the driveway was a silver two seater sport car with black and red leather upholstery.

"It's a Honda S2000. Not something I would get for myself, but I know you like Japanese cars, so I asked my buddy Pete at Filmon Toyota what he would recommended. He had one of these on the lot. Low mileage, mint condition. Not many of them around I guess, and I've never seen one before. Gotta say, it was a blast to drive over here. Goes like shit and holds the corners like it's on rails. Given the way you ride that little rice rocket, I thought you'd enjoy it. Besides, you need to get out more."

I just looked at him and the car, not sure what to say.

Needless to say, we fucked that night. Like crazed monkeys. After another couple of drinks, and the way the whole evening had gone, and how sweet he was to pay off all my debts and get me this little sports car, and this god damn chastity cage, I was a swirl of alcoholic buzz, confusion, lust and shame.

Some part of my brain was screaming "no, don't give in!" but another side was growing in strength and whispering to me "there is no other choice, so why fight it...and besides, you know you want it don't you."

I saddled up to Dave, and put my hip against his waist as he was reaching for another beer.

He slid his hand around my waist, and gave me a squeeze. I put my hand on his leg, not making eye contact, but I could feel my skin tingling. He pulled his hand down across my ass and slid up my dress, his hand electric across my nylons, as he played with the top of my thigh highs. I took a deep breath.

"Why don't you clear some things off the coffee table in the living room and put down a blanket darlin'"

I finished off my margarita, pretty well cut at this point, and knowing what was coming next.

I went into the living room, cleared the table, placed a thick blanket over the coffee table and lay across it, my knees on the floor. I waited for Dave.

"Um, that's nice," he said, as he reached down and ran his hands up the inside of my legs into my crotch, settling in behind me, enjoying the view.

"I love the way you can see through this dress and see the gap between your legs and the G-string going up your ass. That is hot." I didn't know what to say or if it mattered anyway. I was surrendering to him, to let him take me any way he wanted and there was a sense of relief in not fighting it anymore.

I heard his belt buckle and jean buttons being undone, and closed my eyes. I knew this was coming, so was well lubed. He slid my nylons and panties down over my ass and I could feel the tip of his shaft touching me as I closed my eyes. He pulled my butt cheek open with his strong hands as he hunted for my hole. He started to penetrate me and I gasped, slowly at first, then deeper and harder. I had to grip the sides of the coffee table as he pounded me harder and harder. I looked across at the fireplace as curls of my hair fell across my face, closed my eyes, and just took in the deep, wet, rhythmic pounding of my ass. In that moment, for the first time, I really felt like I was a new person called Meaghan.

Eventually, he started to stiffen and then explode into me in multiple convulsions.

"Ah, gawd, fuck!," he said, as he slammed his cock all the way into me and held himself there. After a minute of enjoying his handiwork, he pulled out:

"Pull up your panties and nylons, I want to see you soak yourself."

I did as I was told, unable to keep the flood of his cum inside my ass as it started to leak out and soak down my legs. He hitched my dress up over my back and pulled my nylons and G-string higher up on my waist, enjoying the sight of my ass beginning to leak and soak the nylons.

"That is nice," he commented to himself, as he pulled the dress down over my ass.

"Why don't you make us some dinner now."

He sat at the table drinking his beer, watching as I made dinner. I could feel his wetness soaking me. A couple of times when he got up to get another beer, he slipped my dress up from behind, just so he could check out my ass and see how far the wet stain was making its way down my nylon-covered thighs.

I've never felt so completely owned by another person in my life.


Now that I was no longer resisting him, Dave started fucking me a lot, like I was his private sex toy really.

I would bring him his beer to the door when he got home from work and if we wanted me to suck him, he would just undo his belt buckle and then I knew what he wanted me to do.

I would get down on my knees in the foyer, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and suck him until he was thick and hard. Usually he would have a thick drop of pre-cum on his helmet, and he liked me to lick his tip slowly to spread the pre-cum all over my lips, or show him a long stringy drip from his tip to my mouth.

Sometimes he would be in a rush to get off and would just hold the back of my head onto him, face fucking me violently until he blew a load in my mouth. I'd gotten used to his size, so wasn't as alarmed by all this as I used to be. Secretly, and maybe I didn't even want to admit this to myself, I had gotten really good at giving him blowjobs, and could take his whole shaft down my throat without too much trouble, although the last few inches were always a bit terrifying until he slipped past the resistance in the back of my throat and all the way in the first time, my lips pushing up against his ballsack.

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